Cold, Cold Night
by ColieMacKenzie
Summary: A scene set back in season 3’s episode ‘To Russia With Love’. In that hotel room in Moscow. With that nightgown. Need I say more? smile.


**Cold, Cold Night**

**Disclaimer:** JAG and its characters belong to Bellisarius Productions. No monetary gain is made from this endeavor. I'm just borrowing them for my, and hopefully other people's entertainment.

This scene is set back in season 3's episode 'To Russia With Love'. In that hotel room in Moscow. With that nightgown. Need I say more? smile.

**AN:** Thank you, Theresa! This story most certainly wouldn't have come into existence without you.

Please enjoy.

**o o o o o o**

It starts off slowly. So slowly that first she thinks it is part of her dreams. A figment of her imagination spun from years of tender hope and simmering, suppressed desire.

A whisper of a touch. His fingertips against the silk of her nightgown. Soft. Barely discernible at first. Sliding over the curve of her waist, then downward along her stomach. Mapping a trail of delicate tingles across her skin. Little bursts of heat that thaw her from within.

She senses the iciness that clings to the tip of her nose. Cold permeates the room like frozen tendrils that are reaching out for her. Yet she has never been more comfortable. She isn't surprised that the heating in their room does not work. Now she welcomes the inconvenience. It constitutes her chance of lying with him. Like this. Buried under heavy duvets. Sharing warmth. Her back spooned against his front.

Their movement toward each other had been unconscious. Gradual. Precipitated by the worn mattress springs that form a hollow in the middle of the bed. Aided by fatigue. Sought out, welcomed, cherished by their chilled bodies.

Craved by her hungry heart.

She shivers in the wake of his touch. His hand tightens against her, pulls her closer. She snuggles back against his form, against the heat that radiates from his skin. The contrast to her cold feet is staggering, and she curls her middle around his arm, pulls up her knees, sliding her feet up along his shins. The rasp of his hair tickles her toes. A groan rumbles through his chest, but his legs open for her, then fold closed over her feet, trapping them between his warmth and his strength.

She lies in silence, motionless, breathless. His heat seems to climb into every pore of her, rushing the blood through her veins. His scent is musky, manly, so uniquely him. Her tummy flutters in recognition. In expectation.

His face is nestled against her neck, his warm breath whispering across her skin. Its rhythm even, deep. He is asleep, and she is glad. She fears the loss of this, her perfect moment of a lifetime, to the rationalizations of wakefulness.

Yet in the darkness of this cold night, removed from the complications of their lives, her defenses crumble. She hungers for more, more of his heat, his touch. She yearns to be swallowed by his strength. To be cherished by his tenderness.

Of its own volition, her body arches against his in invitation. His face comes to burrow closer against her neck, his nose bumping against her skin. Its cold tip a stark contrast to the moist warmth of his breath. Her senses sharpen; settle on a deep awareness of each subtle nuance radiating from this man, this man who will forever have her heart.

He sighs, and she feels his subconscious reaction to the closeness of her body. She moves against him. Quivers. Aches. Slides her hand along his arm until she reaches his fingers, then entwines them with hers. Bites her lip. A slow spasm ripples through her, tightens her fingers against his for a mere moment.

It's subtle at first. A gradual change. Infinitesimally small strokes, back and forth along her neck. The tip of his nose caressing her skin. His breathing faster, no longer in regular cadence.

She goes rigid; every part of her body tense. Frozen in his embrace. Thoughts, feelings assaulting her senses like an avalanche. She is drenched in desire. Enveloped in hope. Fearful of all that's been left unspoken.

"Sarah." She more feels than hears her name whispered into her hair. His fingers tighten around hers, and her insides clench. She trembles, her body and mind poised and ready. Aching for this journey. For him.

He nuzzles her neck; his warm lips tracing tender kisses up her spine, then down to her shoulder. Leaving moist trails that immediately cool in the chilly air of the room, making her skin hypersensitive. Tremors run through her like little earthquakes. She bites her lip, fights back a moan.

His fingers rub the silk of her gown over the skin of her belly. Slow, small circles, while the fabric whispers its agreement with every swirl. Liquid heat pools deep within her.

"Sarah," his voice floats across her skin. A caress with words. "Sarah… Sarah… Sarah."

And then she is lost. Her arm reaches around, finds the curve of his neck. She pulls him closer, hoping to seal his exquisite mouth to her skin. The heat between them melting the tendrils of the cold in the room like ice cubes in the summer sun. Her head falls back; mouth open, her breaths rushing out. Heartbeat erratic and wild; she feels it thumping low and deep in her belly.

She clings to him while his fingers wander. Explore along her body. Map the curves and valleys over the rustle of silk and fabric; the only sounds audible apart from their rapid breathing. His fingers find, stroke and circle, and she arches, against his hands, his touch.

She is throbbing, the pleasure building with every touch. Until she feels she won't survive if their connection isn't complete. She twists in his arms, eyes heavy-lidded, seeking. And their lips finally meet. Seal together. Caress. Touch. Explore.

She kisses him with abandon. Pours the depth of her feelings, the intensity of her desire, the strength of her pleasure into this meeting of their mouths. He answers her every plead. Deepens their kiss until she can no longer tell where she ends and he begins. Her heart is full, overflowing with love.

In that moment, she knows. Their hearts beat as one. Their separate journeys have merged into one.

And this night will be theirs alone.

_THE END_


End file.
